Tough as Nails

House’s cathartic triumph entering the psychiatric hospital 

R’ Soloveitchik wrote in catharsis about the heroic nature of the halakhist. His heroism differed from classical models of heroism. He approached the classical hellenistic model as a show off. The hero was the one who stood above and beyond dashing the audience with his achievements and power. The biblical hero is the submitter to the command. It is not about the loud bangs but the hushed actions. Heroism is sticking to ideals and convictions over some trophy and applause.

The cathartic aspect is the active suppression of the champion ambulance. It is not the composed aura for all to see. The drama constructed to seem more important. It is remaining firm to values and beliefs. It is difficult yet vital to the human being. Catharsis is a reminder that the heroic action is not necessarily the bold but the brazen. It is the sigma model of personal belief and execution. 

House recognises that he needs to administer himself into the psychiatric centre. His understanding of his mental state is clearly evident in his realisation that he needs professional help. It is a mature moment that unfortunately, follows his father’s death and Kutner’s suicide. With  his mental state imploding, he sought Wilson’s aid to accompany him to a psychiatric hospital. This was a tumultuous event in his life, putting him over the edge. The heroic step was to enter the ward. 

This heroic step resonates with the cathartic nature of valuational expression. The champion is not necessarily he who is applauded by the masses for his accomplishments for the glamour and awe but for the courageous humility. It is not the movie star that everyone wishes to imitate but the hermit in in his circumstantial terror. 

My own journey follows this cathartic heroism. Through thick and thin, through all the pain I did not lose my mind and hit rock bottom. I did not forgo my convictions and values to just play hedonistic roulette. No one would have faulted me if I fell into alcoholism and drugs. The danger of addiction was far from the magnitude of the pain and fear of immobilisation. Yet, I did not fall into the trap. There is a certain honestly and confidence to remain true to yourself in the heat of battle. In the depths of hell, to retain your sanity by being you, is one of the most important aspects of life. 

The petty arrogance of conceding your values to better cope is a fair decision in the abyss of suffering but it is that much greater to hold on. Not to do it for anyone else but yourself. I shied away from drugs and cigarettes not because I wanted others to notice but because I knew who I was, I was willing to torture myself in abstaining from those dangerous addictive substances to better my future. I did not need to solidify crippling legs with lung cancer or other potential addictive consequences. Was this inevitable? Could I have avoided it? I do believe I may have overdid it. I could have let go and fooled around, experimented without compromising myself but I chose otherwise. The heroic nature of my actions is less about proving a point and more about doing what was best for me in the moment. I did not show up at bars nightly but read and wrote to cope with my pain. It is insanity but it was salvation.

There is a deep level of personal responsibility for the self. Were my methods unconventional? Exaggerated? Yes. Yet, at a time of depressive anxiety and torturous pain, extreme measures sounded more sensical than classic excuses. My model was unique but a little crazy. I humbled myself to my great terror. It was torture. It was dangerous. It was necessary. I did not need to void the pain with experimental opportunities. They would leave me shallow and worthless. The immediate ecstasy would be followed by overbearing pain. It would shrivel up my remaining sanity and lead to a suicidal impulse. Much of this is speculative but possible. The risk wasn't worth it. The self-torture, the hope through intense study clouding my mind with an intellectual cycle of abstraction was my salvation. It worked. It was imperfect but it did its job. I grew and productively nullified a potential horror down the road. My life required my responsibility. My isolation was a self-medicative procedure that was strenuously lonely but solely empowering. These methods are still used to enlighten the nihilistic demeanour. As long as my mind protects me from my pain, it will be a necessary avenue to venture. Extremism is not the solution but it can be a treatment.